Page 123 of Wild Pitch
I grin. “No need to be so jealous that I swept her away from you.”
“We both know I actually helped the two of you stop fooling around and get together.”
“True. Do you wanna be my best man?”
He blows a raspberry. “You’re thinking about marriage already? Are you off your freaking rockers?”
“You’re right, it’s way too early.” I bring my eyebrows together in a frown. “Besides, Lucky would kill me if I make you best man.”
“Starr, focus, for goodness’s sake.”
Hmm, I think I’m starting to learn how to play him back like he does to me, especially seeing how he genuinely grinds his molars in annoyance.
Grunting, he throws an arm around my shoulders and turns me away. “Listen, if you throw fifteen strikes in a row I’ll let you go early to get iced or massaged by your beloved.”
“Ten.”
We look at each other from way too close, but we’re in a battle I can’t back down from now that he has presented the possibility of Hope putting her hands on my skin ASAP.
“Fourteen.”
“Thirteen.”
“Twelve, final offer.”
I pin my glove between my elbow and ribs to free my right hand to offer it for a shake. Slowly, narrowing his eyes even morelike he’s full of nothing but distrust for me, he deigns return the gesture.
“Twelve. All cutters,” he says, tightening his hand around mine.
Sure, my left is stronger, but c’mon—I work both halves of my body out. I squeeze tight enough to hurt too.
“Has anyone told you that you’re an asshole?”
Kim smirks. “Oh, yeah. I tattooed it as my tramp stamp.”
I make a face. The only tattoo I think he has on his back is a massive tiger, but I also don’t spend any of my time inspecting his behind.
Before he walks away too far, I declare, “One day, Logan Kim, you’re going to be so whipped that you also can’t focus at practice. Mark my words.”
He stops and turns over his shoulder. “You’re gonna grow old waiting for that.” Then he puts on his cage of a mask and stomps back to his spot.
Unfortunately, Logan Kim bests me. I manage to throw ten strikes in a row and screw up at the eleventh, which is when he decides to include a new clause in our handshake agreement: start over. I’m pretty sure this is pitcher abuse but Socci backs up the catcher, and that’s when I realize Kim was two steps ahead of me—again—and had previously got Socci on board with the twelve strikes little test.
By the time I’m done with practice, Hope’s already busy working with two of the younger catchers at the same time. It’s puzzling how she can’t see that the two of them look at her like she descended straight from heaven to grace them with her presence. Then again, she also didn’t notice the guy at the bar last night who kept eating her up with his beady eyes.
Like yesterday, though, I can’t do shit about it. People can’t know we’re starting to date, not when this is safer for her. Whichmeans I can’t give us away by socking the two young bucks for the way they look at her.
Day one and it’s already this hard, man.
“Looking real good out there, Starr.” I turn to Otto Berger as he heads toward me with an ice pack in his hands.
Well, this is a downgrade.
I straighten up as I start unbuttoning my uniform shirt. “Thanks, Berger. I appreciate that.”
“You’ve really come a long way from last summer,” he says as he stops beside me, using the bench to undo the straps of the ice pack.
“Sure have,” I mumble, my eyes straying to Hope again.
